Page 84 of Je T'aime, Actually

Monroe’s stomach growled at the same time her eyes caught the lunch bag someone was pulling from the fridge in the office kitchen. She smiled faintly, then reached for her purse. She could wait, but why?

She was her own timekeeper, wasn’t she? She didn’tworkhere.

Pulling her laptop lid closed, she stood, slid her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the exit. It wasn’t just hunger tugging at her, it was curiosity. This part of town was still relatively new to her, and it felt like the perfect chance to get a feel for it. Maybe she’d find a café, a bakery, even just a sandwich shop with good coffee—somewhere she could people-watch and reset for a while before returning to her desk.

Outside, the air was warm, bright with autumn sun and bustling with local life. Monroe smiled, letting the breeze lift her hair as she started walking, no particular direction in mind. Just…out, and into it. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she had a little piece of herself back.

seventy

Monroe closed her laptop with a quiet click one last time, the sound oddly satisfying. Around her, the office still hummed with energy. Phones rang softly, keyboards tapped, and conversations flickered in French and English. Everyone played their part to keep the publishing house not just functioning, but thriving.

She glanced around once more, letting herself take it in. The shelves stacked with proofs and printed copies, the whiteboards with colour-coded lists, the quiet pride of people who cared deeply about the work they were doing.

It felt good. Busy, but good.

Leaving her laptop where it was—there was no need to lug it home—she stood and slipped on her jacket. A few people smiled and nodded her way, and she returned the gesture with a polite wave as she made her way down the corridor.

Chloé’s office door was half-closed.

Monroe paused, then raised her hand and knocked gently.

“Entrez,” came the familiar voice, slightly muffled.

Chloé looked up from her screen as Monroe stepped inside, her eyes instantly softening when they landed on Monroe. “Hey,” she said, already rising from her seat. “You survived day one.”

“I did.” Monroe smiled. “And I left my laptop on the desk. That’s how you know I’m coming back.”

Chloé crossed the room towards her, slipping her arms around Monroe’s waist. “I was hoping you would.”

Monroe leant into the embrace. “I really enjoyed it.”

“I told you,” Chloé murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “you belong here just as much as I do.”

The words meant so much more than just the office.

“So,” Monroe asked a little tentatively as she stepped back, giving Chloé space, “how was your day? Nearly finished?”

“I have one more email to answer and thenoui, I am done and we can go home.” Chloé walked back around her desk and stopped. Her index finger pressed against the corner as she glanced up at Monroe with a hopeful look. “I promise. No more than ten minutes.”

“I can wait. In fact, it’s not that late. Why don’t I go to theboucherieand pick up something for tonight?” Monroe smiled. “I can point at things and say,deux.”

Chloé laughed. “Okay. I’ll be ready when you return.”

The bell above the butcher’s door jingled as Monroe stepped inside. It was cooler in here, the scent of fresh meat and herbs grounding her. A man in a blood-spattered apron looked up from behind the counter, offering a polite nod.

She stepped forwards, rehearsing the words in her head. She rememberedpouletfrom school, and with a deep breath, she tried.

“Bonjour,” she said, then smiled brightly. “Je suis un poulet, s’il vous plaît.”

There was a beat of silence before the butcher’s eyebrows lifted, and a smile cracked across his face. “Vous êtes un poulet?” he asked, amusement thick in his voice. “Vraiment?”

Monroe blinked, cheeks flushing. “Oh—wait, no, no.Je voudrais un poulet. Not…’I am a chicken.’”

The butcher laughed kindly, nodding as he reached for a whole bird, wrapped neatly behind the glass. “Ah, oui. Much better.”

Monroe laughed too, her nerves easing. “It’s been a while since French classes at school.”

“In that case,” he replied in accented English, “you are doing very well, madame.”